Heir of the Dog Black Dog - Hailey Edwards Page 0,74
we are.” He knocked twice. “Agnes?”
“Come in. I’m decent.” With a husky chuckle, she added, “For now.”
Bháin found anywhere other than at me to look. “You have a visitor.”
“Oh, really?” She tittered. “Giovani, I’m no spring chicken. I can’t keep up with—”
I shoved him aside and opened the door before I tossed my cookies. “Mom.”
There she was, reclining on a lounger with a magazine on her lap and a sunhat on her head. She wore the same yellow and black rose swimsuit, except the top had come undone and the ties were wound around her fingers. Ew. Ew. Ew. I blinked a few times, testing if I had been blinded for life by her nip slip.
Mom was perfectly safe, perfectly sound, and scarring me for life with her pool-boy shenanigans.
“Thierry?” She flattened the magazine against her chest. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
My first step into the room confused the hell out of me.
Gone were the ice-block walls. There were no walls period. I had stepped from ice floors onto the powdery sands of Galveston Island. Blues skies stretched into forever. Waves crashed as gulls cried. I trudged through the sand to her lounger, plopped down and just breathed the briny air for a minute.
“I told you I was going to visit Marcia and Stan for the weekend.” She leaned forward and retied her top. “They’re at the bar getting us drinks. You look flushed. Do you need a bottled water?”
“No.” I scooted closer and rested my head against her side. “I’m fine.”
She pushed the hairs from my eyes and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.” She checked the sides of my throat for swelling. “Is your throat sore? Have you been coughing?”
I took her hands in mine. “I’m good, really.”
She sighed. “You never said why you’re here.”
It stung how eager she was to shoo me off and get back to flirting with men who looked half her age but were probably older than the sand under my butt. By all appearances, she was having a blast. She hadn’t even noticed my getup. Maybe that was part of the illusion too.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the freestanding door a few dunes away from us.
All of this was one complex visual and audial illusion. This beach, that particular couple—who I knew Mom hadn’t spoken to since I killed their daughter Andrea—all the details were pulled straight from her memory. Bháin was powerful if he could create such a vivid false reality and maintain it for days on end. Fondness for him oozed from her voice. He had played along to make her comfortable. Just how comfortable I never wanted to find out.
I didn’t know what to make of this, of any of this. I had pictured her lost and alone and terrified. I envisioned her in the same situation as me. Fear for her had motivated me. Now I felt so...deflated. I almost relished pulling her from this fantasy back to cold reality.
“I got a call from Andy.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. Using Andrea’s nickname hurt. “She needs her room—”
“Did something happen at Baylor?” She sat upright. “Is she all right?”
No, Mom. She’s not. She’s never going to be all right again. “She’s fine.”
“Oh. Well.” Mom settled back into a relaxed position. “I have been here a few days. I can cut my trip short if she’s coming home for a visit.” A sharp frown cut across her face. “I haven’t seen Andrea in a long time. Years it feels like. Her poor parents. Andy’s class schedule must keep her busy.”
Baylor. Class schedule. Apparently, not all of this was pure memory. Andrea hadn’t survived to college age. Part of this illusion was threaded with Mom’s dreams for us and plans Andy and I had made together.
Suddenly, I had to find somewhere else to look. That’s when Rook caught my eye. He stood in the doorway, framed like a chilly memory of winter in summer’s heart. He noticed me watching and stepped out of sight.
How much of this was his doing? How much of the care shown to her was at his request? Bháin had argued with him before we left. Over this? Over her? Which one did I have to thank for keeping her blissfully unaware of her circumstances? Who was my heart softening toward? Rook? Or Bháin?
“Do you mind if I finish my drink first?”
Mom’s voice drew my attention back to